


Coffee & Stuff

by MysticAssassin



Series: Coffee & Stuff [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee and spice, Prompt Fill, Sassy Allen, Tumblr Prompt, Yullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 11:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15929150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticAssassin/pseuds/MysticAssassin
Summary: Allen rolled his eyes. “Oh, you- the pronoun. The usual?” He wouldn’t admit that the man’s irritation made him the slightest bit happy. If the smile wasn’t telling enough, that was his own problem.“My name is Kanda, you bean sprout.” And Allen could not even revel in his short victory because of the horrid thing that he was just called.“What did you call me?”“Bean sprout. Get your hearing checked.”“Why the hell would you call me a bean sprout?”“Che’ because you’re short. And I pay you to make my coffee. So do your job sprout, I don’t have all day.”“First off, you don’t pay me. Second, wipe that smirk off your face. That was not clever.” It was. “My name is Allen, or was my nametag not big enough for you to see while standing right in front of me?” And then he groaned because the jerk, newly named Kanda, was clearly not paying attention to him. “Dumbass.” He muttered under his breath and graced the man’s cup with Prick. And for extra spite, he only did fourteen pumps each for Kanda’s drink.





	Coffee & Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on my tumblr. You can also prompt me for fics~
> 
> [Mystified Realities](http://aoimitsu.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'll probably start posting shorter fits on tumblr that I won't be posting over on Ao3.

When Allen started working at _Coffee & Stuff_ in order to fund his “healthy growing boy appetite”, he had learnt two things. One, the name was absolutely horrendous and the _Stuff_ in the title could be anything. Two, you could tell a lot about a person based on their coffee of choice.  

So when a resentfully attractive, long-haired man walked into the store with a frown so deep set it may have already been there when he was born- and he demanded coffee that was possibly as black as his soul, Allen knew with his heart of hearts that the man was an asshole. It was when Allen realised that the order was not done that Allen blessed him with another glance.  

“Could you repeat that?”

“Shit, and here I thought that old man hair was just for show.” Allen bit his tongue to hold back his retort. “I said I want half a cup of black with fifteen pumps of pumpkin spice. Fill the cup then pump fifteen more.”

“Would you like some coffee with that spice, mister?”

“What the-”

But Allen cut the man off before he could say much more. “And who do I make this out to?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

Allen sighed and looked into the man’s dark dark eyes. He couldn’t tell if they were actually black or blue. Or if the blue hue was just a result of the overhead fluorescent lighting. “You-don’t-need-to-know-that. That’s a pretty weird name.” And he already had a pen and cup in hand, scrawling the letters across the foam cup.

“Your coffee will be ready in a second. Please step aside and wait.”

“There’s no one else here.” Allen wanted to groan. The man was certainly persistent, but he was right. Who would get up at the ungodly hour of five for a cup of coffee aside from the mental such as mister _you-don’t-need-to-know-that._ A fact that annoyed Allen more than he thought possible, because it meant that he was watched rather intently as he made the order.

**_________**

By the end of the day, Allen thought that he could put the horrible meeting behind him, that it was just one bad experience, and he sort to do just that. When the next day came and he had finished cleaning down the workstation, the bell at the door chimed at exactly five in the morning. Allen looked up with a smile to greet the poor customer who would share in his early morning suffering- and his smile sunk like a body tied to concrete being tossed in a river.

Mister _You-don’t-need-to-know-that_ waltzed right up to the counter- frown and ‘pissed at the world’ glare already in place.  

“You.” He didn’t mean to sound like the man was one of the last people he had wanted to see again. But he was.

“What?” For whatever reason, the man looked slightly shocked.  

“I said, ‘you,’” As in why are you here? But he kept that to himself.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

Now it was Allen’s turn to be confused, “What? Your name is You?”

“Don’t call me that.” And Allen almost felt like if the counter wasn’t between them, the man would literally try to bite his head off. “Just make me my damn coffee.”

Allen decided that he definitely did not get paid enough to deal with this. “Right. Well what will it be?”

“The same damn thing I had yesterday.”

“Wait.” He paused long enough to stare at the man just before it got awkward. “You were serious about that?”

“Did I not drink it? Even if you’re shit at making coffee.”

“Right.” Allen’s words bearly slipped through his clenched teeth. His jaw twitched as he set about making the half cup of black coffee with fifteen pumps of pumpkin spice, before filling the cup with more coffee and another round of spice to top it off. Allen hated that he remembered the man’s order just after one day, but it was just absurd enough to not forget.

That day, he marked the cup with _You_ _Jerkface_.

**_________**

Somehow, it wasn’t until the fifth day that the man had decided to make Allen’s mornings hell that he finally learnt his real name. Allen had greeted him with “Oh, you,” because really, he didn’t have anything that he could actually call him without risking being let go. The decorative names he supplied the man with daily were meant only for the coffee cups as underhanded ways to piss the man off.  

Allen rolled his eyes. “Oh, you- the pronoun. The usual?” He wouldn’t admit that the man’s irritation made him the slightest bit happy. If the smile wasn’t telling enough, that was his own problem.

“My name is Kanda, you bean sprout.” And Allen could not even revel in his short victory because of the horrid thing that he was just called.  

“What did you call me?”

“Bean sprout. Get your hearing checked.”

“Why the hell would you call me a bean sprout?”

“Che’ because you’re short. And I pay you to make my coffee. So do your job sprout, I don’t have all day.”

“First off, you don’t pay me. Second, wipe that smirk off your face. That was not clever.” _It was._ “My name is Allen, or was my nametag not big enough for you to see while standing right in front of me?” And then he groaned because the jerk, newly named Kanda, was clearly not paying attention to him. “Dumbass.” He muttered under his breath and graced the man’s cup with _Prick_. And for extra spite, he only did fourteen pumps each for Kanda’s drink.

**_________**

When autumn started to roll in, the coffee shop did a little upgrade. A lot of the stuff was now themed, and there were new coffee flavours to try.

“Why don’t you try a pumpkin spice latte? It’s in season.”

“Because I don’t want that shit.” Kanda spoke with his arms folded. He eyed the coffee makers pointedly as if mentally telling Allen to hurry up with his order. But Allen wasn’t done with him yet.

“It’s in season! And it’s practically the same thing you always order, except with steamed milk.”

“So, not the same thing. At all. My order, bean sprout.”

“It’s Allen, you arse.” And Allen decorated the cup with an old favourite name for Kanda. _Dick_.

**_________**

“Do you have death wish?”

Allen looked up from wiping down the counter at his favourite costume with a frown. It had been several months since Allen had met the man, and he liked to think that he knew him well enough by then. And was used to the things that came out of his mouth, but, “I think you mean ‘do you have a death wish’ and bloody hell, Kanda. What crawled up your arse this morning?”

“Every time you open your mouth I want to smash your head against the counter and use the fragments in that cup of coffee that I still don’t have.”

Allen took a step back with a healthy dose of repulsion. “Clearly you haven’t had your cup of barely tolerable human being today. I’ll get right to it then.” He set about to make the man’s questionable ‘usual’ before he was stopped.

“I asked if you had any death wish, bean sprout.”

He chose to stare back at Kanda blankly, because he was being paid to make coffee, not correct the older man’s horrible grammar. But Kanda finally caught on to his dilemma and spat as bitterly as his coffee of choice.

“That’s the name of the brand, dipshit.”

Allen scoffed, offended. “I’m sure that’s not actually the name of a brand of coffee…” He spoke as he pulled out his mobile, already typing the name into the browser. It wasn’t like there was an eager line of customers just waiting to get their coffee and stuff. When the search results came back and he read through the description of what was offered, his frown deepened. “Is this the part where you tell me your sob story that led to you wanting to kill yourself?”

“No. This is the part where I tell you your coffee is weak as shit.”

Allen narrowed his eyes slightly before going about making Kanda’s usual, all while thinking of ways the man could die from his absurd coffee intake. When he was done, he slammed the cup down harder than necessary even though Kanda was standing right before him. “I hope you fail to get your coffee down even after you try drinking it.” It was a polite way of telling Kanda that he hoped he choked, because he couldn’t outright insult a customer, even if it was one-name Kanda.

The man stared at him blankly, as he gave a hollow smile, before turning away in an act of tch’s and che’s and ridiculously long, silky looking hair, and walked away.

**_________**

Fall quickly made way for winter, and Allen was in a festive mood, even if he was still awake at five O-bloody-clock in the morning. It did mean that he got to do as he pleased so early, and he chose to celebrate that with lovely Christmas tunes in between classical music. He’d even tried to find them all in piano versions.

“What the hell is this garbage?” Kanda’s voice reached him before the man even got to the counter.  

“Oh, come now Kanda, even you must have a different mood for the holidays.”

Kanda’s response was his frown going the deepest that Allen had seen since knowing the man. He didn’t know why he expected anything different. But the man would not ruin his festive mood.  

“Ah,” Allen bent below the counter to retrieve a small bag that had an obnoxious red ribbon at the top. “Here.” He held the bag out and Kanda eyed it through narrowed eyes as if whatever was inside would kill him.

“What the hell is it?” He refused to take the bag and Allen rested it on the counter between them.

“It’s your black death.”  

“It’s called death wish.” Kanda said after a moment. His voice filled with suspicion. But he finally took the bag and opened it to see the black bag with the name of the coffee written clearly enough.

“That’s what I said.” Allen picked up a nearby rag and started wiping the counter space idly. “This doesn’t excuse you from coming in here and giving me my tips.”

“Get a freakin’ facelift.”

“Jeezus, you’re such a prick.”

“And who else is going to make my coffee at this god-awful hour. I already get up at four, I’m not making coffee too.”

Allen almost laughed at that. At least Kanda also agreed that the hour was abysmal. That would possibly be the only thing they ever agreed on. “Here.” Allen handed over the coffee that had already been waiting on Kanda’s arrival. It was still piping hot because Allen had his arrival time down to a science. Also, Kanda came in like clockwork.

‘Che’ Kanda put the money down onto the counter and turned to leave.  

“Ah, wait.” When he spun around Allen held out his receipt. He eyed it suspiciously as Allen turned it to the back side with several numbers scribbled hurriedly.  

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s my number.” Allen said all bright smiles. He wasn’t deterred when Kanda once again tried to just leave, and shoved the paper at the man instead. “Just take it.”

He got an earful of nonverbal complaint as Kanda took the paper and crumpled it in his hand, but Kanda shoved it into his pockets either way.

“Now remember Kanda, if you start feeling weird just remember to send me a video so I can remember your legacy. Oh, and call the hospital I suppose.”

He received one slender middle finger for his efforts as he waved Kanda out the door before resuming humming the tunes that echoed in the shop.

**_________**

When Allen got home that night, he was only mildly surprised to see a text from Kanda asking how to make his cup of coffee.


End file.
